



.;;),, ;,S.,,;„;.,,jU 




Class __52l3J5L05. 
Book .04^S b 



COPXRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



i 



SHOES OF THE WIND 



SHOES OF THE WIND 

A BOOK OF POEMS 



BY 



HILDA CONKLING 

Author of "■ Poems by a Little Girl" 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 






Copyright, ig22, by 
Frederick A, Stokes Company 



All rights reserved, including that of translation 

into foreign languages, including 

the Scandinavian. 



Printed in the United States of America 

SEP 26^22 

^CI.A681940 



TO A MOTHER 

To a mother with hazel eyes and brownish hair, 

And fingers quick as stars 

That twinkle in night-cold air .... 

Hair wound like a web of lacy sea-weed . . . 

Blue robes floating like the spring wind . . . 

My mother has a heart that loves me 

And sings like a music. 



Thanks are due to the editors of Poetry: 
A Magazine of Verse, The Touchstone, 
The Nation, Contemporary Verse, The 
Literary Review of the New York Eve- 
ning Post, The Measure, and Broom, 
an International Magazine of the Arts 
Published by Americans in Italy, for 
their courteous permission to reprint 
many of the following poems. 



CONTENTS 

PAOB 

Locust Tree in Bloom 3 

Poems 4 

Lilacs 5 

Through the Rainbow 6 

Spring Talk 7 

June Day 8 

Marigold 9 

Drowsy Island lo 

Edge of Morning ii 

Golden Wave 12 

"I Won't Tell You the Name of ThiS One!" . 13 

Dying River 14 

Dreaming of Dreams 15 

The Key to My Mind 16 

Exiled Primroses 17 

Western Horizon 18 

Moss 19 

Arbutus-ing 20 

Cloudy Pansy 21 

Orchid Lady 22 

Poppy's Sleepy Shell 23 

Rose Thistle 24 

Autumn Blue Mist 25 

Moon in October 26 

Nine 28 

Wishes 29 

Mary Cobweb 30 

To A Black Pansy 31 

Bare Butternut Tree 32 

[ix] 



CONTENTS 

PAGB 

Leaves 33 

My Mind and I 34 

River 35 

Evening River 36 

Wet Day 37 

Old People Singing 38 

Japanese Picture 39 

This is a Dream 40 

Wood Dove 41 

Jasmine in Spring's Hair 43 

Message for a Sick Friend 44 

August Afternoon 45 

Chrysanthemums 46 

Bluebell Ring 47 

Nature 48 

Gold Fish 49 

Barberry 50 

Joy 51 

Field Mouse 52 

Moccasin Flower 53 

Butterfly Adventure 55 

Carrier Pigeons 56 

Cherry Blossoms 57 

The Cellar 58 

Peony 59 

The Milky Way 60 

Geranium People 61 

Daisies 62 

The Old Brass Pot .63 

Night is Forgotten 65 

Elsa 66 

Hill Song 67 

Appleblossom Town 68 

Bed-time 69 

Pigeons Just Awake 70 

Little Old Woman 71 

[x] 



CONTENTS 

FAon 

This is about Mountains 72 

Horse-chestnut Cottage 74 

Magnolia 75 

Hermit Thrush 7^ 

Flitting Wave 77 

The Sea is Gray 78 

Moth 79 

Honey 80 

Dryad 81 

Today I Saw 82 

The Song 83 

Wild Tulip 84 

Lustre Cup 85 

Volcano 86 

May Basket ... 87 

Sunbeams 88 

Shadows 89 

Dragon Box 90 

Bulbs 91 

Three HIyacinths 92 

Snow Morning 93 

Gold-fish Bowl 94 

Loveliness 95 

A Memory 96 

Wreck 97 

What I Said 98 

Orion 99 

Blue Jay 100 

April is Coming loi 

Up and Down 102 

Moonbeam 103 

The Lake 104 

Chinese Silk IQ5 

Song for Morning . 106 

Weaving Laurel Dance 107 

Lilac Bush 108 

[xi] 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Wave 109 

Music . no 

Iris in 

Thoughts 112 

When Moonlight Falls 113 

Little Green Bermuda Poem 114 

Thunder Mist : 115 

Brook 116 

The Garden 117 

Hyacinth 118 

Butterfly in a Wind 119 

I Keep Wondering 120 

About Animals 121 

Golden Pear Tree 122 

Vermont Hills 123 

Eagle on the Mountain Crest 124 

I Wondered and Wondered 125 

March Sunset 126 

Mermaid 127 

Cosy Song 128 

Dreams 129 

Copper Bowl 131 

Pine Cone 132 

Winter Night i33 

Song Nets i34 

I Live in a Cottage 135 

Blue and Gold 136 

Royal Palms i37 

Bluebird 138 

Who? 139 

Trees 140 

Lullaby 141 

Palm Trees .... 142 

White-capped Lake ... ... 143 

The Fougotten River 144 

Waking t,hd Moths i45 

[xH] 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Weeping Willow 146 

Costume 147 

South Wind 148 

Pine Tree I49 

Clarke Farm 150 

Crystal Cave 151 

April with Veiled Arms 152 

Peace-of-our-own 153 

Lonely Song 154 

I Thought i55 

Cliffacre 156 

Jeanne D'Arc 158 

Wild Canary 159 

Books 160 

I Was Thinking 161 

Big Dipper 162 

Never-known 163 

This Day 165 

Deserted House 166 

Dragon Fly 168 

I Shall Come Back 169 

Time 170 



[xiii] 



SHOES OF THE WIND 



A 



LOCUST TREE IN BLOOM 

BOUGH of locust blossoms for my present, 
Or just a spray is enough for me ! 
They smell like honeysuckle and poppies 
Twined together . . . 
Their buds hang like green fruit . . . 
They are shoes of the wind. 



[3] 



: POEMS 

I KNOW how poems come ; 
They have wings. 
When you are not thinking of it 
I suddenly say 
"Mother, a poem!" 
Somehow I hear it 
RustHng. 

Poems come like boats 
With sails for wings; 
Crossing the sky swiftly 
They slip under tall bridges 
Of cloud. 



[4] 



LILACS 

AFTER lilacs come out 
The air loves to flow about them 
The way water in wood-streams 
Flows and loves and wanders. 
I think the wind has a sadness 
Lifting other leaves, other sprays. . . . 
I think the wind is a little selfish 
About lilacs when they flower. 



[5] 



THROUGH THE RAINBOW 

THROUGH the rainbow I saw blue hills. 
Songs love that country. 



[6] 



SPRING TALK 

TWO cherry trees are showing white 
And the plum tree is in bloom. 
Apple blossoms are opening . . . 
Come to the crab-apple tree ! 
Come see the red buds peeping out ! 
When I shut my eyes 
I see violet plants drawn on my eye-lids 
From picking violets all day long; 
And there were just as many 
After I went away. 
For every violet I picked 
Two more sprang up . . . put on their purple 

or white . . . 
When I did not see them 
As quietly as Bumble-Bee 
Decorates himself with pollen 
Whenever I'm not looking. 
You'd better look at my last-year's garden ! 
All my golden-glow is flourishing, 
My trillium has a big huge bud . . . 
It is warbler-time, blossom-time. 
Past pussy-willow-time, time for willow leaves. 
With ferns uncurling, bloodroot petals scattered, 
Wild honeysuckle turning red 
Among the rocks. . . . 

[7] 



JUNE DAY 

I'VE had a good time today, Mother! 
I feel happy as a starling on a cherry-bough. 
Young plants coming . . . 
Apples swelling . . . 
(But the biggest of the feelings I know 
Will always be cherries ripening In the light!) 
The song of the catbird touched my heart. 
I swang In the breeze with my thoughts floating 
around me. . . . 

Thoughts of little robins 
Trying to eat cherries, 
Thoughts of baby grackles in their nests 
At sunset-time, 
These were in the shade, these were soft-colored 

thoughts 
Under the apple-tree as I swang. . . . 



[8] 



MARIGOLD 

MARIGOLD, marigold, 
Where are you going? 
Have you a plan? Can you not tell me? 
I should like to know! 
There are lots of places to wander. 
There is a brook needing a visitor, 
A robin needing a friend. 
You must not be lonely: 
You belong to nature as I do! 
You have a frank little way of staring . 
I am curious about you ! 
The blue sky hangs over you and me . . . 
The sun's rays fall on us both . . . 
Why not be happy 
On this wonderful earth? 
Marigold, answer! 
I tell you all my thoughts 
But you have not said a word! 
{It was then she said softly 

"I have many friends. 

But you are my best!" 

[9] 



DROWSY ISLAND 

I KNOW where a crested island 
Bows his head to a wave that is full of 
stars . . . 
Lays his cheek against the foam of that wave. 
It is where the sea is dark 
Against the edge of the world. 
It is farther than ships go. 
When I am sleepy 
I see trees move all shadowy . . . 
Strange fan-curved shapes moving slowly . . 
There are no trees like those 
In this valley ! 
It is so far away, 
Surely I do not hear them rustling, 
But what is the sound in my mind? 
Waves can make It, murmuring up a beach . . 
Leaves can whisper that way 
At night. . . . 



[10] 



EDGE OF MORNING 

GRAY slate roof of a house near by 
Turned silvery by the sun . . . 

Clouds keeping their grayish night- 
pink . . . 

Then suddenly 

Sunlight poured through the windows; 

Sunlight sang as it came; 

Clouds dashed by singing; 

The blue sky coming opened its eyes to 
the sun. 

This is a picture-poem 

But it is my thoughts, too 1 



[II] 



GOLDEN WAVE 

THE golden wave of sunset 
Stays long . . . does not 
flow away . . . 
Red-rose color and pearl 
Above the amber twilight, 
Gleaming like dew 
On the leaves of the forest: 
As though a great pitcher 
Were pouring out light 
I see the golden wave 
Cover the world. 



[12] 



"I WON'T TELL YOU THE NAME 
OF THIS ONE/" 

SOFTLY, softly, 
Gently, gently, 
Over the tree-tops to the sky, 
Back again to the hills, 
Footsteps lost, footsteps unseen, 
Always vanishing. . . . 

Softly, softly. 

Gently, gently. 

Don't you make a noise now! 

This wonder-creature comes 

But once a year . . . 

Comes on tiptoe 

Looking under leaves . . . 

Softy, softly, 

Gently, gently . . . 

{Was it the wind?) 
[13] 



DYING RIVER 

THE river waits for water 
From a feeding stream; 
The little stream, winding, 
Runs on its way to pour itself 
Into the dying river. 
And the river lives again 
In the valley. 



[14] 



DREAMING OF DREAMS 

DREAMING of dreams long ago 
On a rain-cloudy day, 
I felt your soft hands like roses, 
And your eyes looking down on me. 
Your lips were near 
Curled at the corners like flower-petals. 
I think of your dark yellow hair 
Lifted by the wind ... 
I can see it in my mind: 
It makes me wonder. 
How did I find you in my dreams? 
Where is the dream now? 

Where? 

Your dream is flying over mountains 

Down the valleys, 

Over the rivers of autumn colors 

Into the sky 

And away! 



[■5] 



THE KEY TO MY MIND 

A LITTLE stone door in my mind 
Opens and shuts with a musical sound. 
There is a gold key 
Locks the door; 
The door is carved like lace. 
Spirits fly in and out, 
Messages 

Of love and things I ought to know. 
Through the lace-work of stone 
Comes a sweet melody saying 
Happiness . . . purity . . . strangeness . 



[i6] 



EXILED PRIMROSES 

TWO exiled primroses 
Stood by a breaking wave. 
Their mother was calling, 
They could not hear. 
They used to live beside a pine tree 
In the garden of a rich merchant 
Of a Chinese city 

That had a name like music of gongs 
Struck softly after dark. 



[17] 



o 



WESTERN HORIZON 

,N the sands of the western sea 
Are pink shells . . . bits of coral 
One lonesome shell 
^;^ Holds my mind upon it. 
Where the horizon bends 
Ships pass: 
I am that little shell 
Watching them turn and go. 
I hear waves break and fall away . . . 
^ They are echoes in my heart. 

I They are stories I heard 

''^ Yesterday . . . 

Often I try to remember to tell you 
The words of their loveliness. 



[i8] 



MOSS 

GREEN velvet to look upon, 
Shaped and woven of tiny trees, 
Soft velvet to make a pillow for birds 
Or flowers when they go to sleep. 
Velvet rugs for the footsteps of the wind 
(Though he leaves no footprints behind him,) 
I too have felt that softness: 
I have heard the wind pass and return 
And stoop down to whisper 
Among the trees of the moss-forest. 



[19] 



ARBUTUS-ING 

YOU hunt here and there, 
You know not where, 
And pull away the moss; 
You think you won't find any . . . 
But then ! 
A clump of pink and white ... all 

wonderful ! 
Now you think they are gone, 
Now you almost step on the flowers 
They are so near I 

Small, clustered, a sweet breath . . . 
Not a perfume, 
Only a dark deep sweetness 
Of arbutus. . . . 



[20] 



CLOUDY PANSY 

WANDERING down a dusty road 
I met a gypsy. 
She might have dropped out of the trees. 
She had a green kerchief 
And a blue velvet skirt, 
A lavender cape 
And a gold locket : 
Green shoes on the feet 
That trod the powdery road 
To the marble-floored Vermont river 
Thinking ... as it goes along . . . 



[21] 



ORCHID LADY 

TAN and green orchid, 
Are you a little lady 
Holding up your skirts 
Above wet grass? 
Do you wear a feather 
Where that white is showing? 
Is there any color 
Shut inside your heart? 
I could be an orchid, 
I could be a lady, 
I could wear a feather, 
I could step like you; 
There is just the difference 
Of your way of bowing. 
And your tilted bonnet 
And your satin shoe ! 



[22] 



POPPY'S SLEEPY SHELL 

POLLEN of poppies ... a powder 
the fairies use 
Out of the poppy shell of golden royal 

blue, 
When they are going to dance and dance 
In ring-abouts of mushrooms at night 
Till poppies put them to sleep at last 
With bedtime chimes and secret breath ! 



[23] 



KOSE THISTLE 

A BROOK to run past it, 
A cloud to float over it, 
An eagle with its children 
To talk to it, 
The thistle on the hillside 
Is pink with dew 
And rainbow cloud. 
Two bees dig out honey as hard 

as they can 
Before the shower: 
The humming bird eats honey too. 
And later he will want thistle-down 

for his nest 
When the rose-color has gone 
And the flower is changed. 



[24] 



AUTUMN BLUE MIST 

THIS is night's own trailing wind 
That goes by in blue mist 
When morning wakes. 
This is not smoke from chimneys, 
No fire breathes and puffs it out 
Across the sun. 

This is autumn on an October morning 
Early hills, 
Fields in a veil. 



[25] 



MOON IN OCTOBER 

THE moon is at her crystal window 
Spinning and weaving . . . 
The moon looks out of her window of crystal. 
She has no lights excepting stars 
That hang on threads unknown 
From her sky-ceiling, her walls. 
Their twinkling is like the twittering of 

many birds 
In the early morning. 
The moon sits by her crystal window; 
She sings to herself and spins . . . 
Spins the pale blue silken thread 
That holds earth danghng 
Over deep light. . . . 

(Nozv this is what the moon sings:) 

Spin, spinning wheel, 
Day and night too! 
I keep it going all the time 
To weave my robe of dew. 
I make it from the fields of blue 
[26] 



MOON IN OCTOBER 

And the robin's breast; 

The sun gives me rays 

From the yellow west. 

It shall be touched with evening 

And with mellowy dew, 

And send a separate shining 

Down the sky. to you, 

My woven gown of sun-rays, 

My silken gown of blue. 



[27] 



NINE 

DO you know how nine Comes? 
The fairies have numbers, all my ages, 
Sharp on a piece of card-board: 
They cut out and spirit out my number, 
Nine . . . 

They come to the window softly . . . 
Then they give it life . . . open the window. 
It flies in, it bumps me on the forehead. 
But does not wake me : 
Just before morning breaks it fades back 

into my brain 
And is my age. 



[28] 



WISHES 

I WANT three things; 
They are wishes 
Bright and happy. 
You cannot know my dreams, 
The wishes that stay in my heart 
I want three things 
Unknown to any one I 

Tell me — oh, tell me 
What are the wishes 
In your heart? 

I cannot tell you; 
It is a secret thing. 



[29] 



MARY COBWEB 

SHE was not exactly a doll . . . 
I always saw her taller, 
And she liked flowery dresses 
And gloves of violet petals. 
Yet she was cozy and heartsome, 
She could cook mushrooms 
And knew how to season a roast. 
Quite practical ! 
I called her Mary Cobweb 
Because I knew one day that must be 

her name, 
Though nobody told me : 
And the secret fairy ways she had 
Kept me interested in spite of my 

growing . . . 
(Though now I have lost her!) 
I know she liked cream . . . 
I know she could not leave a honeycomb 
Unbroken , . . 
Somehow she was real 
Through my own feelings. . . . 

[30] 



TO A BLACK PANSY 

LITTLE Prince, 
Why do you stray about 
Like a butterfly who has lost 

his lantern? 
Why do you sob, 
Small gypsy in the dark? 
Do you think maybe the world 
Will end tonight? 



[31] 



BARE BUTTER-NUT TREE 

A TREE stands old and worn; 
The North has blown away 
its leaves. 
When I see it that way 
I wish Spring would return . . . 
How can I wait so long? 

O butter-nut tree, 

Why didn't God give you speech, 

And you without your green leaves? 

Why can't you sing small songs 

Against the wind 

For comfort? 



[32] 



LEAVES 

IN my apple-orchard 
In the oldest tree 
Fall has hidden gold leaves. 
I looked into the hollow 
And saw no apples, 
Only leaves with frost on them 
Like marble tilings, 
Like jeweled tables . . . 
iYet there was no gold ... no 

marble . . . 
Only leaves covered with frost 
That sparkled the way my thought 

told me. 



[33] 



MY MIND AND I 

WB are friends, 
My mind and I, 
Yet sometimes we cannot 

understand each other; 
As though a cloud had gone 

over the sun, 
Or the pool all blind with 

trees 
Had forgotten the sky. 



[34] 



RIVER 

SOMETHING wanders among the mountains, 
Something ripples along forget-me-not fields, 
Something cries when birds go south. 
Something curves its golden sand-bar 
Like the handle of a purple sword. 
If I speak strangely 
Do not wonder: 
Something is looking for a castle 
Made of seaweed, shells and coral, 
Where the sea curls 
Under the sunrise. 



[35] 



EVENING RIVER 

THERE'S a cloud in the west 
Shuts the big red globe from my 
eyes. 
Two little clouds 
Are sundown birds sailing past in pink 

light: 
Stars on dwindling threads hang 

trembling: 
Birds come and have soft talkings 

together . . . 
Company sometimes, maybe? 
But now I am leaving in blank thought 

that river 
Murmuring its poem about the sun, 
About the sand and glittering stones , . 
Oh pure white sand! 
Now I turn away to strange moments 
And places . . . 
Now the evening curls and closes. . . . 



[36] 



WET DAYl 

RAIN-DROPS slanted down, 
Light struck through them sharply . . 
The sun burst through . . . 
It was like a thunder cloud 
But golden. 

Everybody was shut into houses 
On this favorite street of mine: 
Even I had been shut in. 
But when I saw the rain-drops parted, 
I stood free : 

The sun-god swept his wind over us. 
He flung glory into our feeling of clear 

relief . . . 
People of the town 
Tired of rain. 



[37] 



OLD PEOPLE SINGING 

I LOVE to listen to old people singing. 
I love the way they have of hum- 
ming to themselves. 
It makes me think of the sun of past 

days 
That Is the present . . . when it shines 

again . . . 
It makes me think of lonely trees 
Strayed away from their forest . . . 
It is like a thick soft curtain hiding the 

view from me 
Of a country I have never seen. 



[38] 



JAPANESE PICTURE 

TREES on a marble island, 
Birds with little brown backs 
Is this Paradise? 
Mountain of my heart 
With pink and purple coloring, 
Little houses on the river-bank . , . 
Houses made of maple-sugar, 
Distant tree, 
Boats with blue sails; 
Japanese people in silk 
Hidden in the brown-sugar houses; 
Yellow sky, pearl-colored ground, 
River-ripples like the ripples in silk 
Or a windy corn-field; 
Hills of pink opal 
And dewy seas. . . . 
Did you answer my question 
About Paradise? 



[39] 



THIS IS A DREAM 

ROSKS in my garden, 
Brooks that run far, 
Clouds that go a-hunting, 
Red copper fountain-bowls . . , 
This is ill! VI y dream 
I iim tcUifii/ you . . . 
Candlesticks, palaces, 
Leaves that turn to gold, 
Marble shapes that stand, 
Trees that turn to silver. 
Leaves of glass, 
{Roses in my garden, 
Brooks that run far . . .) 
Oh my dreams will be coming true 
Some day when I do not think 

of it! 
Love is my dream, 
Love is everywhere. 
{Brooks that run far 
Reflect the sky.) 
Love climbs like a vine 
In my heart; 

[40] 



THIS IS A DKKAM 

I. ike a vine of iimethyst 

And pearl. 

Oh, my (If earn will come true some 

day, 
Roses in my garden, brooks that 

run far! 



[41] 



WOOD DOVE 

WHI',N morn in breaking 
When the sun is rising over 
dark, blue hills, 
When mists go by 
I hear a voice say 
Coo . . . coo . . . 
It is Mistress Wood Dove 
Hidden and alone, 
Glad of morning. 
I call, 

She answers: 
Morning is sweeter 
For her voice. 



[42] 



JASMINI-: IN SPRINCrS HAIR 

JASMINM in Spring's hair, braided Into 
Spring's hair, 
Dangling stars wound closely. 
Stars fluttering from the hraidcd golden wind, 
Spring mist melting out through trees 
Over peacock-fern. . . . 

All the time mist lifting . . . 

Mist (joitifj away . . . goiny away . . . 

Jasmine like a Spring moon 
(irowing on the blue vine of night . . . 
Jasmine shining in the hair of Spring 
And the scent of jasmine coming into my 
thoughts. . . . 

/ill the time the mist lifting slowly . . . 
All the time the thought of Spring on tiptoe 
in my heart. . . . 



[43] 



MESSAGE FOR A SICK FRIEND 

TELL her my love 
IVll her to go to sleep 
Thinkinp; of everything in the 

world; 
Colors . . . the wind . . . 
C^r ;i lish in a spray of opal 
seaweed. . . . 



[44] 



AUGUST MTKRNOON 

SEA-BIXJI': of ^rcntiiin, 
Hluckbcrrics' ebony stain, 
Yellow of golilcnrod, 
Tree fringes waverinj^ along 

the road 
Under the hill, 
These make up an August 

afternoon 
1 have known : 
But more than fruit or flower or 

tree 
Is my mother's love I hold 
In my heart. 



[45] 



CHRYSANTHEMUMS 

DUSKY red chrysanthemums out of Japan, 
With silver-backed petals like armor, 
Tell me what you think sometimes? 
You have fiery pink in you too . . . 
You all mean loveliness: 
You say a word 
Of joy. 

You come from gardens unknown 
Where the sun rises . . . 
You bow your heads to merry little breezes 
That run by like fairies of happiness ; 
You love the wind and woody vines 
That outline the forest . . . 
You love brooks and clouds . . . 
Your thoughts are better than my thoughts 
When the moon is getting high ! 



[46] 



BLUEBELL RING 

BLUEBELLS all in one 
Like a piece of sky, 
Nodding to the faint air 
With still faces, 
Stirring a little. 

Holding their breath for wonder 
But all the time friendly 
To any one who passes. . . . 



[47] 



NATURE 

SITTING in the half-dusk, 
My mother and 1 talking and gossip- 
ing . . . 
(Such gossip ! Suchtalkl) 
Wc tell poems, 

Wc wonder over nature, what she can be about? 
It would be strange to ask questions of nature 
And /'<• nature at the same time ! 
Nobody knows what secrets she has 
Hidden in her bosom white like a shell. 
My mother does not know, 1 don't know, 
Nobody knows. 



[48] 



GOLD FISH 

LIKE a shot of j:;olcl 
Or an arrow darting 
With thin gold wings 
He swinns . . . 

Now around . . . then straight 
Then a swish of tail . . . 
Then zigxag all along 
With a kind of stiff smile . . . 
In ponds or bowls 
He swims and stares 
Out of big popping eyes 
Of ebony . . . 



[49] 



• BARBERRY 

I'M going to have a horse 
Named Barberry, 

His coat the eoKtr of barberry leaves 

In autumn : 

Russet red he will be 

With tlylng- mane, 

Strong and wiry, 

His head slender and haughty! 

Touch him . . . feel the life and joy 
within him 

Run througii you like fire! 

He will be free as wind: 

He will take me through forests away 
from people, 

Past lakes, across rivers, into the moun- 
tains: 

He will go galloping across corn fields 
by twilight 

He will find me a coral beach. 

His eyes will snap with joy of always 
being free. 

People may p'l't' me their best horses . . . 

Barberry for me, aaainst them all! 



JOY 

JOY Is not a thin^ you can sec. 
It Is what you feci when you watch 
waves breaking, 
Or when you peer throu^fi a net of woven 

violet sterns 
In Spring grass. 

It is not sunlight, not moonlight, 
But a separate shining. 
Joy lives behind people's eyes^ 



[SI] 



FIFJJ) MOUSE 

LriTI.l'', hrowu I'u'KI mouse 
1 lidlu^ wlu'ii (he plough goes by, 
Timid creature (h;it you ;ire, 
Wild thing, 

Were you once in the forest? 
Did you move to the fields? 
In your brown cloak 
Vou gather grain 
l''or your secret nienls: 
You will build a house of earth 
Tlie way )'ou remember: 
b'rom a baby up to your fullgrown feeling 
Vou ha\e run about the lieKl 
As other iield-mice will run about 
When another century has come 
Like a cloud. . . . 



[52] 



MOCCASIN FLOWER 

MOCCASIN flower," I said, 
"Like a ship full of thoughts 
..^loafing down a river, 
Thoughts I don't know 
In the little ship's heart. . . . 
Moccasin flower of the woods, 
Wild May orchid, 
Looking out at the weather 
And the moon's rays, 
Who is it you play with? 
Daisy or buttercup? 
It cannot be. 
For you live in the forest, 
They, in the fields. 
Do the robins come to visit you, 
Or bluebirds, maybe? 
Do they bring you cherries 
For your gown? 
I wonder if you know them. 
They are friends of mine. 
Do you know Mrs. Primrose? 
She wears a pink gown . . . 

[53] 



MOCCASIN FLOWER 

You must be friends ! " 

A small voice answered 

"I know her very well, 

But not- Robin, Bluebird, 

Buttercup or Daisy! 

I know Fern, Red-Cap Moss, Mushroom, 

I know Wild Canary, Hermit Thrush, 

Brown Veery comes at sunset . . . 

I have often seen him ... 

I have heard his thoughts 

In tones like apple-blossoms. 

The kind a violin plays. . . ." 

Suddenly I noticed dusk 
Coming . . . 
I heard the veery . . . 
I tiptoed away. 



[54] 



BUTTERFLY ADVENTURE 

I SAW a butterfly 
Dark-brown and dusty 
Like a plain traveler. 
But when the sun shone on him 
He wore sapphire-blue and opal 
And winking half-moons of gold pow- 
der . . . 
All the brown vanished away 1 

How could I know 

He was iridescent? 

Nature seems to hide 

When you look at her with sleepy eyes, 

But with eyes wide-open in the open light 

You see her shine to all the colors 

Of the sun. 



[55] 



CARRIER PIGEONS 

ACROSS the rippled ocean 
Where the wind blows wildly 
And never keeps still, 
Across the midnight sky, a glad news! 
Messages floating, beating, 
Happy words high over the sad sand 
And empty waters . . . 
Pigeons on their way 
Home. 



[56] 



CHERRY BLOSSOMS 

ARTIFICIAL, lying on the bough like 
snow-flakes, 
With pinkness touching them sometimes 
As though it were sunset, 
Cool and far-looking 

Yet turning all the time into red ruby cher- 
ries. . . . 
I am waiting with the robin redbreast 
For the hour to come ! 
They will be green, then daffodil yellow, 
Then their cheeks will redden. 
They will be ruby-dark that now are hidden . . 
The far will change into near. . . . 

/ am watching you every Maytime hour 
You artificial rosebud-snowflake cherry 
blossoms! 



[57] 



THE CELLAR 

1L0VE my queer cellar with its dusty smell, 
Its misty smell like smoke-fringes 
From clouds blowing past; 
iWith its shelves of jam and goodies, 
With its boxes . . . barrels . . . 
Woodpiles here and there. 
There is a passageway 
To an unknown room 
Where bins hold carrots and things. 
There are glass doors that bang 
And cobweb windows. 
I love the quietness of my cellar 
Thinking in the dark. 
My cellar has apples in Its breath, 
Potatoes even, 
That smell of earth. 



[58] 



PEONY 

SHELL-PINK it stands In the tall glass, 
Queen Elizabeth in a ruff (or one of her 
ladies?) 
Looking th^ :way she did in old English times. 
To see her makes me hear fiddlers playing 
Out-of-doors ! 
I can never tell which fehey will be when they come 

out . . . 
King or queen or lady of the court . . . 
Country woman or man or little laughing girl 
Dancing through the woods . . . 
Very soon that peony over there 
Is going to be Cinderella; 
But this is Queen Elizabeth 
In my mother's vase. 



[59] 



THE MILKY WAY 

DOWN the hiohro.id oi ihc Milky Way 
We ijo riding 
On horses made oi stars. 
The eloiuls Hit like white butterflies: 
Wc are dry . . . >ve do not know it is raining 
I'pon earth. 
Roses of opal and pearl 

Sway baek and forth in the nuisical wind . . . 
Pine trees like emeralds hang . . . 
A pheasai\t's wing like a fan is spread . . . 
White mountain-peaks gleam . . . 
Purple and silver is the sunrise. 
Quiet lakes shine along the MilkyAYay- 
Like mirrors you hang on cottage walls. 
When I am asleep 
This is what I sliall dream. 
Things can never really go, 
They come again and stay. 
When your thoughts are put on bcautitul things 
They come alive and stay alive 
In your mind. 

[60] 



GERANIUM PEOPLE 

CLOUDS were flying up out of the water. 
Hills were like blue asters against white 
surf. 
The wind blew from nowhere, from everywhere. 
It (lid not know wliere it was going. 
I saw red geraniums like falling stars, 
7'heir heads still upright, though sunflowers were 

drooping; 
When frost comes, 
And the bleating hail, 
These geranium people will not be strong 
Any more. 



[6i] 



DAISIES 

SNOW-WHITE shawls . . , 
Golden faces . . . 
Countryside, hillside, wayside 

people . . . 
Little market-women 
Selling dew and yellow flour 
To make bread 
For some city of elves. . . . 



[62] 



THE OLD BRASS POT 

THE old brass pot in the corner 
Shines and scowls at the kitchen 
pans; 
Like a stubborn king 
He sits and frowns . . . 
Orders them about 
When I'm not looking. 
He was a gift from the fairy queen . . , 
What can I do? 

He boils rice when I want it, 

Makes broth when it is needed, 

He is magic 

But he growls all day. 

Without him it would be pleasant and 

comfortable 
In my little cottage 
,With wistaria growing over the open 

windows . . . 
What can I do? 



[63] 



THE OLD BRASS POT 

He tells the frying pan 

To stay on Its hook . . . 

He shouts at the other pans 

In a gruff voice . . . 

They all might be so happy 

In my cozy kitchen ! 

Tell me . . . but you must whisper 

What ca7i I do? 



[64] 



NIGHT IS FORGOTTEN 

NIGHT Is forgotten. 
Birds sing when the happy sun 
Looks suddenly down. 
I hope the Iris is out 
With dew like jewels fringing the 

petals; 
I hope the oriole is up 
Arranging his feathers. 
I must hurry . . . there is so much to 

see ... 
I can hardly remember it all! 
Only yesterday I made a song about a 

yellowblrd 
And what did I say? 
It Is not real to me now 
Though I know how he gleamed, 
Shining through four thin leaves 
Of the pear-tree. 



[65] 



ELSA 

MY sister stood on a hilltop 
Looking toward the sea. 
The wind was in her bronze-colored 

hair. 
She was an image 
On a broken wave . . . 
Foam was at her feet. 
So for a moment she wavered 
And was lovely; 
And I remember her. 



[66] 



HILL SONG 

AWAY, away on a winding road, 
Away, away, far and wide to the mountains, 
Through pleasant meadow-plains that smell of 

strawberries 
Down a lane of mountain-rue 
We go. 

All this will fade away, 
But here we are on the road to the hills 
To the sky where swallows flit 
And shove their wings into the mountain-air. 
They slash their wings into the brook-water. 
Let it flupper over their wings. . . . 

{In the fields, strawberries dark red with 

ripeness, 
In the brook, trout that wear coral beads.) 

It is the gurgling of brook-water 

Makes me want to singl 

This hill-song is over now . . . 

Ends suddenly 

Like a sapphire. ... 

[67] 



APPLE-BLOSSOM TOWN 

I KNOW an orchard . . . 
Apple-blossom Town! 
Bees live in the next village. 
Pink and fluffy houses in the trees 
Are for rent. 

My thoughts tell me who will come . . . 
These are trees that blossom with bees 

and birds. 
Here Is a town with just enough air, 

just enough sun; 
Love enough, happiness enough. 



[68] 



/ 



BED-TIME 



LOOK at the clock of the moon 
Time for children to be in bed! 



I have hidden the great sleepy ocean 

Under a leaf: 

I have talked to the mountain softly 

As I would to a thrush : 

The river is stretched out 

In the cornfield, 

But there is still a commotion in the 

lower valley 
Where I tethered the west wind to a 

sycamore tree. 



[69] 



PIGEONS JUST AWAKE 

AS the sun rose 
Everything was bathed in gold, 
Trees were still and solemn . . . 
Pigeons waded the dew. 
Their feet were the color of new June 

strawberries. 
I thought what it must be to fly, 
To whirl up into the light, 
To know the curved flight of pigeons 
Above trees and lawns ! 
If I could fly 
I should not have to leave my mother 

for long 
Nor my dark-eyed sister; 
Only a fluttering, a lifting 
Up round the elm tree and over, 
A cool curving and sliding down the 

light 
Into wet grass. 



[70] 



LITTLE OLD WOMAN 

BENDING down like arms 
The branches of the crab-apple tree 
Make a shining tent 
With doors of glass I can look through 
And green satiny doors 
Each with a lock of gold. 
I sit like a little old woman knitting 
In the Spring warmth . . . 
The spots of sunlight on the grass 
Are golden children singing and dancing; 
My arms are full of golden children, 
Though I do not know what they 

sing . . . 
Little old woman that I am, 
Knitting. . . . 



[71] 



THIS IS ABOUT MOUNTAINS 

IT'S maple sugar time 
In the mountains. 
The brook has climbed its bank 
To look over into the world. 
Trees are beginning to think . . . 
They stretch themselves. 
The bareness of the woods will go 
If the pattern of the year is what I 

learned 
Last Spring. 

The mountains I knew best 

Used to have festivals . . . 

There was September on Starr King . . 

I remember the apple-sauce tree, 

I remember how I would smash apples 

on top of a rock 
Crush them with a stone for the calves 

to eat. 
How the chipmunks scolded me for 

taking the apples ! 
Chipmunks own the mountains 
[72] 



THIS IS ABOUT MOUNTAINS 

But the mountains haven't heard about 

it yet. 
March maple-sugar and September 

apples 
And a cave of honey the bees know, 
And Hilda to think about them 
Afterward. . . . 



[73] 



horse-chestnut:* COTTAGE 

WITHIN a ^reen an^ everlasting 
covering * 
Like a coat of mall 
There lives a little old lady 
In an apartment of seyeral roorns. 
The walls are pink on one side, . 
Brown on the other; 
She must be a rich old lady to have 

wall-coverings 
Of changeable silk finer than spiders' 

webs ! 
Once she got lost. ^ ^ 

I saw her shiny shriveled face 
Look up at me 
From the grass. 
I heard her call and call me / 
In a faint and shivering voice 
To come to her quickly, * '' '^r 
Unlock the door for her, 
Help her up the steps 
Into the place she had always known 
Since she began at all. . . . 

[74] 



MAGNOLIA 

OH shell-pink that you wear, 
Oh pure white bosom ! 
Like a fan all spread, 
Like a sail ready to go over lapping 

seas, 
Sometimes birds flutter in your branches. 
But you have not many friends. 
Your friends are flowers, 
Your comrades are trees. 
But birds seem shy of you. 
And the little insects. 
I know not what your thoughts may be 
When the wind blows your flower-buds 
Single or in clusters, 
Oh beautiful magnolia 
Up against the gray stern sky! 
Your color lightens the grayness 
And purples the rain. 



[75] 



HERMIT THRUSH 

SOMETHING that cannot be said 
in words . . . 
Something sweet and unknown . . . 
The wind . . . the brook . . . 
Something that comes to a trembling 

fuller tone 
Like a waterfall . . . 
That little brown creature is singing 
A music of water, a music of worlds; 
He will fly away south, 
But his song stays in the heart 
Once it is heard. 



[76] 



FLITTING WAVE 

THREE words I combine 
Mix them like a wine 
For the sea to drink : 
Happy . . . merry . . . gleeful 
These are three words 
That sparkle! 
The wind sings with foam. 
I, with my thoughts. 



[77] 



THE SEA IS GRAY 

THE sea is gray with a gold rim of 
moonlight: 
Foam is the lace binding the golden rim. 
Only a little while ago 
The sea was an opal box. 

I have buried my thoughts in the sand: 

It would take a water-creature to find them. 

I could not find them myself with much 

searching 
Unless a shell should remember for me, 
Or a sand-cricket mark a pebble-mound . . . 
''Here you hid something!" 

Once I cared for many things 
I have forgotten. 
When the sea moves slowly 
Nothing matters except the moon. 



[78] 



MOTH 

BY the river of Now-a-days 
When you bend close to see the million 
tiny flowers 
That crowd to make one bloom of the 

Queen's Lace, 
If you happen to disturb my secret dream, 
I shall come flitting like a small moth 
Into your mind. 



[79] 



HONEY 

THERE'S a busy hum in the farm meadow 
As the bees go from daisy to clover-top 
Humming, humming as the horizon clouds blow 

nearer, 
Humming, humming on this gay June morning. 
Even the vineyards are in bloom: 
The grape-flower breath comes on the breeze 
Something like breath of primroses that bloom 

in evening light 
And laugh at what goes on in the world. 



[80] 



DRVAD 

D0N"1^ scold willows, 
They arc ilryad trees 1 
It you linJ a dryad, 
Dolores, my dear, 
She will kiss you, maybe . . 
Make you younp: aj^ainl 



[8i] 



TODAY I SAW 

TODAY I saw the world a new way: 
Close-drawn slanted rain, white light, 
the wind blowing, 
And the sky with a fringe of elm-buds. 

Let the rain now fall in torrents 
And the trees shake like flags: 
Today I saw the world a new way. 

Let the sand-dunes have their song. 

The Connecticut swept by them proudly 

Fluttering her silver skirts of rain 

So that I thought of all the queens I have 

ever known 
In all the storie^s. 



[82] 



THE SONG 

THE pine tree was singing a song tonight 
With the wind in its branches, 
But earth-held children were heavy with sleep 
No one heard the song. 



[83] 



WILD TULIP 

MOTTLED like the tiger-lily leaf, 
With black necklace clinging, 
(Of course it has a green cloak!) 
God has made a tulip. 
He made the glacier like a moving jewel, 
He made the tulip 
Like a red cloud lighted by the sun. 
I wonder how it feels to make a flower 
Or a glacier like a great dream! 



[84] 



LUSTRE CUP 

THE rainy blue teacup is my favorite. 
It has a mountain like a white butterfly 
Poised. . . . 

It has a lake with coral reeds. 
I see water-hyacinth growing, 
And I know flamingoes 
Will come flying over. 

A strange voice tells me to go searching . . . 
Tells me I could find something on that shore 
No one else can find. 



[8s] 



VOLCANO 

IN Mexico a mountain stands alone. 
It looms above me ... a joy strikes my 
heart; 
I see its transparent colors, its long opal 

hair . . . 
But the moon would make it shine 
A heap of silver. 
My thoughts are gone from me 
Because of that splendid trembling iridescent 

thing . . . 
I know it will fade, 
I know it must go. 
Songs float over its crest . . . 
Dusk is coming on . . . 
/ will touch the mountain! 
My fingers touch air. 
The broad bright country sways in folds 
Like long slow waves . . . 
If all the hills were water rising and falling 
This would be the highest wave, 
This would be the white-hooded wave, 
This would be the great wave for sea-gulls 

to follow ! 

[86] 



MAY BASKET 

NOT violets, not lilac, 
But cowslips to remind you of the 
marshes, 
To tell you how the redwing is back 
On pale-feathered willows; 
Cowslips wading in water ... I found 

them wading 
Up to their little green knees. . . . 



[87] 



SUNBEAMS 

SUNBEAMS sing little folk-songs 
About fairies, about Neptune 

And those old gods . . . 

Sunbeams remember the world being 
made: 

Grasses and small things 

Remind them. 

I have heard them speaking another 
language 

As though the sun-god heard, 

But I can understand better their oriole- 
talk 

And their songs of delight 

After rain. 



[88] 



SHADOWS 

CIRCI.ES transparent, black as night, 
Circles with gold spokes of sun-rays, 
Transparent as sun that shines, 
Transparent as moon that beams, 
Clear shadows whirl and Hit. 
As I think of it 
Transparent is the whole spinning world. 



[89] 



DRAGON BOX 

CARVED and twisted and silver 
in its shadows 
Is the dragon box my mother gave me : 
Secret even from my sister 
And friends dear to me. 
I hide my treasure under the dragon 
Curling on the cover. 

Now it is a butterfly 

On the blue velvet . . . 

But sometimes it is my thoughts. 

The butterfly is made of yellow opal. 

With black jet like two eyes 

His wings are set, 

And a dim black circle 

Like a trail of strange thoughts. 

I have told you about the butterfly . . 

I have not told you what I am thinking. 

That is a dragon-box secret 

Only Mother and I know. 



[90] 



BULBS 

BULBS in brown capes 
As though they were dead . . . 
As though they would never come alive ! 

But their life is real 

Though you cannot see it : 

White ribbons reach from them far and 

wide 
Into mysterious water: 
When you have given up all hope . . . 
(How can you know their narcissus 

thoughts?) 
They soften and rouse 
And poke out green finger-tips. 



[91] 



THREE HYACINTHS 

THREE hyacinths grow gaily 
In the blue Chinese jar: 
My mother, my sister and I ! 
We are curly-fingered, 
We wear pointed caps: 
We play ring-around-a-rosy all day long: 
We look at winter through a silver 

window 
Glad we are not made of frost, 
For hyacinths on window-panes 
Fade and vanish . . . 
They cannot look back at the sun 
Laughing softly; 

They cannot whisper together, I suppose, 
As garden hyacinths do, 
Or as my mother, my sister and I whisper 

and play 
Living in the blue jar. 



[92] 



SNOW MORNING 

MORNING is a picture again 
With snow-puffed branches 
Out of the wind . . . 
With the sky caught like a blue 

feather 
In the butternut tree. 
I cannot see the world behind the 

snow, 
But when I look into my mind 
There with all its people and colors 
The world sits smiling 
Quite warm and cozy. 



[93] 



GOLD-FISH BOWL 

THROUGH the gold-fish bowl 
I look into tropical islands. 
The great bowl of water makes things 

bigger than they are . . . 
Stranger. 

That is why one spray behind the glass 
Keeps me dreaming of a palm tree; 
And our reflected windows 
Are a water-place. 

The fish swim into one window . . . 
Out of another . . . 
Winding their gentle way 
With no sound. 

The bowl reflects and sings with color 
And with my thoughts. 
My mind whirrs and spins round 
Thinking of things I'll see when I'm 

grown, 
Thinking of what is in the world beyond 
Waiting for me, 
While I stare and stare into the gleamy 

bowl 
Where gold and silver fish twinkle by 
Weaving their web of shining trails. . . 
[94] 



LOVELINESS 

OVELINESS that dies when I forget 
Comes alive when I remember. 



[95] 



A MEMORY 

I PICKED up three folded tulip petals 
That fell from a flower-head; 
Pink and white they were, rolled a little 
At the edges . . . 

When suddenly they smellcd like pea-pods 
Fresh and small. 

And I remembered the Champlain garden . . 
How we shelled peas out-of-doors 
And I ate the pods sometimes, 
They were so sweet I 
The whole tulip will not smell that way, 
Only a few curly petals 
Fallen, 
If they are not withered and their own 

breatli 
Is about them. 



ro6] 



WRECK 

SUNFISH like doves in the sea-trees . . . 
And down below, a wreck 
On the floor of sand. 

Thiit sJiip Ttv// a radiant ship 

Sailini/ the goiug li-aters 

To a sea far ... far .. . 

Those zcaves that dash against the rocks, 

They are the same zcaters 

That took the ship in their arms . . . 



[97] 



WHAT I SAID 

LILIES of the valley, 
Bell-shaped moments clustered, 
Doves of time, little white doves 
Through the dusky sunset-coloi'ed air 
Set free, 

I stroke your wings, 
I stroke your folded wings. 



[98] 



ORION 

1SAW Orion glitter 
Through the dark-boughed elm-tree; 
And though I am little, though I could not 

know or imagine 
How he came there, 
I knew how beautiful he was. 



[99] 



BLUE JAY 

ALL the flowers are sleeping, 
A feather blanket of snow 

Over them. 

Blue Jay balances on a dry old sun- 
flower's bent head . . . 

He dives under . . . 

He strikes out seeds with angry 
beak. 

His wings are barred with frost, 

His snow-dusty feet 

Are like dull crystal. 

I like him . . . almost . . . 

But must he keep on screeching in 
such a voice 

And the flowers at their wits' end 

For a little quiet? 



[loo] 



APRIL IS COMING 

APRIL is coming with wings of mist and scent 
of lilac . . . 
April is trailing her arbutus and her ground pine 

over hill-slopes . . . 
April is making us new things to look at . . . 
Red-ruffled maples and pussy-willows turned 

powdery, 
You may see them through her transparent wind. 



[lOl] 



UP AND DOWN 

OUNTAINS reach up skyward; 

Boulders reach into the earth. 

Mountains are great and strong, are royal 

when you look at them: 
Boulders have their minds on the center of 

the earth 
They came from. 



[102] 



MOONBEAM 

MOONBEAM steps down the 
silken ladder 
Woven by Mrs. Spider 
To ask her to spin him a net 
To catch the stars. 



[103] 



THE LAKE 

THE lake is solemn; 
Its smiles are gone. 
No swan, no birds 

To get relief from burdens and dust. 
Let me go make it glitter, 
Make its flowers sing and blow 
Into a little tune like a wind blowing 
Or a poem Keats thought of . . . 



[104] 



CHINESE SILK 

OVER the sea a wandership, 
Over the sea a ship with sails of silk 
Above the marble-white decks. 
Silk with dragons of green, 
Purple mountains, 

Silk like a garden of colored gold and silver 
With dolphins playing in a square pond; 
Silk like a proud park 

With a bold-plumaged peacock in a tree . . , 
Rainbow and amethyst and gold. 
I see fish with twinkling fins . . . 
I see stars in water . . . 
I see winter frost 

Fringed with sunrise and sunset . . . 
Maybe I see more than this 
Tall sails full of pictures! 
Silk from far-away China 
With pictures coming alive 
In the wind! 



[105] 



SONG FOR MORNING 

FREE to the wind like a swallow, 
Free to the wind like a bird, 
Over clouds, over fields flying always, 
Never resting from the blue air, 
Over brooks curled like ringlets, 
Over apple-trees in flower, 
That is where I would be; 
Free to the wind, free ! 



[1 06] 



WEAVING LAUREL DANCE 

THERE'S a path that leads 
Through two squares of laurel 
Where I dance like a nymph 
In the April light. 
I go through . . . out on the other 

side ... 
Back again . . . winding . . . 
Twice again I weave my dance 
And wander away among the trees. 
I shall go back to dance again 
When the laurel blossoms come, 
When the May sun tinkles 
Through the deep pines. 
Stately the pines will wave over me 
While I am in my weaving laurel 

dance. . . . 



[107] 



LILAC BUSH 

LILAC princess 
Swaying in a lavender gown, 
She looks at no one 
But straight into the eyes 
Of sky and wind. 

She may be sad when the rain comes, 
She may be glad when it goes, 
Always she has a smile 
To give the world. 
The sun beams on her, 
Gives his glittering rays, 
Helps her to remember 
When she was in bud. 
In clusters ... a lavender torch . . 
She trembles ... is alive . . . 
Swaying in the lovely light 
Of evening. 



[io8] 



THE WAVE 

OH If I were a wave 
With sea-green hair and white 
foam-dress, 
Oh if I were a wave 
With foam-white hair and sea-blue 

cloak, 
I would go seeking oceans 
No man has discovered, 
I would go on . . . night or day the 

same searching . . . 
Always singing to myself. 
Somewhere golden sands, 
Somewhere a beach of palms. 
And the wind in them . . . 
Ships to lift and swing like children . . 
Deep-sea things to handle 
With my strong fingers of water, 
Never a wish to be quiet 
Very long . . . 
Oh if I were a wave 
With thoughts of seaweed 
And dreams of sand and shells I 
[109] 



Mrsic 

IV T tiiiiik nuisi*.". 
It comes .ind goes. 
It the touiu.iin ripples .\nd spl.ishes. 
It keeps oil siiiijiiii;-. 
I'.illiiii; broken water 
Sino's and .inswers 
When the w.ublers in the Mav trees 
St.iv close tor .1 little. 
Hut nuisu" (h.'.t I he.ir 
Is dirtcrcnt \n its nie.mings . . . 
Happv lunir ov sorrowing 
Into change. 



[no] 



IRIS 

WlUri.R than snow, sharp 
whiteness, 
\Vith tanning leaves, small atul 

straii;ht 
I. ike herself. 
With liead to the sky 
And violet eyes wide-open, 
Iris comes nuirnuirin!^ a soni; 
As trees do, 

And leans upon the wind. 
Later she droops her head, 
For the dark 
Has caught her . . . 



[in] 



THOUGHTS 

ALONG a cloudy river 
Comes the note of the evening dove 
Like a mellowy light 
That glimmers and is gone. 
I shall remember my twinkling thoughts 
That shine and are lost in the river. 
Sitting on a mossy bank beside an oak tree 
I sec and hear and think . . . 
All the great things of the world 
Go by. 

Even at six o'clock in the morning or earlier 
There is the sunrise to think about. 



rii2] 



WHEN MOONLIGHT FALLS 

WHEN moonlight falls on the water 
It Is like fingers touching the chords 
of a harp 
On a misty day. 

When moonlight strikes the water 
I cannot get It Into my poem : 
I only hear the tinkle of ripplings of light. 
When I see the water's fingers and the moon's 

rays 
Intertwined, 

I think of all the words I love to hear, 
And try to find words white enough 
For such shining. . . . 



[113] 



LITTLE GREEN BERMUDA POEM 

GREEN water of waves 
On the Bermuda beaches: 
White coral roads running away, 
Pinks shells waiting for me to come : 
/ shall come some day! 
How would it sound to be there alone 
And hear the Atlantic Ocean 
Crash on bright rocks? 
This island is a great rainbow 
That lasts forever. 
People go and come 
And the waves forget them. 
I see the island turn and turn 
A soap-bubblc' with rainbows drifting 

down, 
A rainbow ball turning. . . . 
Always light . . . always glitter looking 

through . . . 
My poem that began with a green wave 
Has broken into colors. 



["4] 



THUNDER MIST 

WHIRLING vapor changing. . . . 
Is it an opening flower? 
Is it a fading prancing horse? 
The steeple with its oldness, 
In the foreground a maple with silver- 
backed leaves 
Against a violet cloud . . . 
This is an August storm 
That blew down out of the sky. 



["5] 



BROOK 

A RIPPLING sound, a magical 
sound, a musical sound 
All in one, 

The brook goes swirling, whirling, 
Singing, dancing. 
It likes to curl, and it curls: 
It likes to whirl, and it whirls. 
It comes to a long straight lane 
And goes straight as arrows go. 
Violets are the color of water 
Under one kind of sky. 
But water is always changing; 
Going by. 

This is a quaint song 
You will not remember any more 
After you have once heard it. 
You cannot remember the sound of 

water 
Nor the musical rippling of my 

words. 



[ii6] 



THE GARDEN 

LOVE is a garden 
Where my soul is a tree in bloom, 
Where my joy is a fountain that keeps 

rippling 
Forevermore. 



["7l 



HYACINTH 

HYACINTH, hyacinth, 
Is It Spring now? 
For I am weary of the long long 

winter 
Green grass ought to come when 

Spring opens her eyes, 
Hyacinth, will you tell me 
When Spring will be here? 
The lilac-bushes are in bud 
Under their snow. 
I cannot see the buds 
And no one tells me but you 
Of the world coming alive 
In the sun! 



[ii8] 



BUTTERFLY IN A WIND 

ALL of a sudden 
Blown to my hand 
'Wings of dewy color, 
Silvery flaky dust along my finger. 
I wondered where he had come 

from? 
I asked him where he was going? 

Butterfly words are faint 
But I heard his answer . . . 
/ never knozv! 
I am a wanderer in the wind. 



[119] 



I KEEP WONDERING 

1SAW a mountain 
And he was like Wotan looking at him- 
self in the water. 
I saw a cockatoo 
And he was like sunset clouds. 
Even leaves and little stones 
Are different to my eyes sometimes. 
I keep wondering through and through my 

heart 
Where all the beautiful things in the world 
Come from? 
And while I wonder 
They go on being beautiful. 



[120] 



ABOUT ANIMALS 

ANIMALS are my friends and my kin 
and my playfellows; 
iThey love me as I love them. 
I have a feeling for them I cannot express . . 
It burns in my heart. 
I make thoughts about them to keep in my 

mind. 
I warm the cold, help the hurt, play with 

the frolicsome ; 
I laugh to see two puppies playing 
And I wonder which is which ! 
General is a dog with blue-black eyes; 
They shine . . . there is a love comes from 

them; 
He is filled with joy when he guards me; 
His eyes try to speak. 
I see his mind through them 
iWhen he asks me to say things for him as 

well as I can 
Because he has no words. 



[121] 



GOLDEN PEAR TREE 

OUT beyond the hills 
In a meadow there stands a pear tree 
Like the sun. 
It is a singing tree . . . 
Its song is of the wind, of birds, of myself. 
In winter time it is changed to a silver shape 

of snow; 
But before that time it has borne its pears 
Of amber and gold. 



[122] 



VERMONT HILLS 

THE Vermont hills curve 
Like a swirl of wind; 
The last light shines . . . 
They are like plums and grapes. 
They have lights like coral, 
Like April peach-trees in the dark. 
I shall dream them again 
When years have gone, 
And I shall not have forgotten 
You. 



[123] 



EAGLE ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST 

HIS bronze shone like a haze: 
From below you would think him 
an image 
Of long ago. 

But he is real ... he is of now-a-days: 
No one made him but God. 



[124] 



I WONDERED AND WONDERED 

I WONDERED and wondered . . . 
I saw a comrade of mine; 
It was a wave smooth and blue 
That tossed . . . fell away . . . 
I wondered and wondered . . . 
I saw a mountain white with old age; 
I could not remember 
How I came there. 
I wondered and wondered 
Under a motherly sky 
That knew my name and kind, 
That rested my tired thoughts, 
That said "I have a rainbow for you, 

Hilda, 
And a young moon, hidden. ..." 



[125] 



MARCH SUNSET 

PINES cut dark on a bronze sky . . . 
A juniper tree laughing to the harp 
of the wind . . . 
Last year's oak leaves rustling . . . 
And oh, the sky like a heart of fire 
Burned down to those coals that have the 

color of fruit . . . 
Cherries . . . light red grapes . . , 



[126] 



MERMAID 

DO not grieve, 
Do not be unhappy, 
Do not look about 
As though you saw nothing! 

Soon the black, the dark green ocean 

Will come back . . . 

Will clash against the rocks 

On the sliding sand , . . 

Soon the sun will come from the eastern 

horizon 
Up from great blue hills 
To change the water to glittering heaps 
Of pearls. . . . 

Then you will remember! 



[127] 



COZY SONG 

COZY we sit 
A cricket and I, 
In a little tree-trunk corner 
Soft with leaves of falling snow. 
Friends are we. 
For once he is not thinking 
About music or moonlight. 
We talk of a cottage somewhere 
With a canary in the window 
And chairs leaning together 
Like old people talking; 
It looks warm-hearted 
To our dreams. 



[128] 



DREAMS 

DREAMING of lands far away 
I lie on a smooth white cloud 
Drifting along the wind 
Lazy and slow-pouring above the trees. 
They bend ... a quiet rush ... a 

hush . . . 
A murmuring ... a rustle and swerve 

of leaves . . . 
They are dreaming other dreams 
Because they are old. 
I do not know how it is 
Dreams come to the old. 
New worlds beginning when the old life 

ends, 
Changing summers and autumns 
With kind faces, 

Spring-times that run away smiling . . . 
Old people and old trees dreaming 
Make we wonder. 
There is not very much in my own dream 

today 

[129] 



DREAMS 

Excepting thoughts that blossom in 

summer. 
Whatever I tell you, O my mother, 
You know I am only a little girl 
Wondering. . . . 



[130] 



COPPER BOWL 

WHEN clouds sit In the sky 
The earth must look to them 
like a copper bowl 
With the sun on it. 

I hope they see the green elm-buds float- 
ing in that bowl, 
And color like a lavender scarf 
That is the April wind I 



[131] 



PINE CONE 

PINE CONE is a brown girl 
From Kentucky. 
By a gleaming lake she stands 
Like a lady in front of a mirror 
Admiring her dress. 
I often see her brown curls ruffled 

out .... 
I see her dimples . . . 
I hear the grass and the dew play 

music to her . . . 
But what made me think of her 

today 
I'll never know. 



[132] 



WINTER NIGHT 

THE snow lies fluffed . . . 
Untrampled. 
The trees gossip when the moon 

gets up. 
The music that is in the snow- 
dream 
Stays with me, 
Mother ! 



[133] 



SONG NETS 

I WEAVE them of sun and moonbeams; 
I run back and forth making my nets. 
The seagulls scream . . . 
Tell me where to catch the songs; 
I have a magic in my own mind 
That tells me. 

Song nets, 

I weave you with all my love 

You glitter like pearls and rubies . . . 

In you I catch songs like butterflies. 

You go past my reaching hand 

With a thin gauzy floating . . . 

And the songs are caught 

Before they fade away. 

Last night my hand caught a song 

Of pines and quiet rivers: 

I shall keep it forever. 



[134] 



I LIVE IN A COTTAGE 

THERE'S a little cottage 
in a ring of hedge. 
Hyacinths grow 
At the garden edge. 
There's poplar and lilac 
And an apple tree. . . . 

And there I am in my little red 
dress and sunhonnet with the 
watering-pot in my hand . . . 
Have you come to visit me? 



[135] 



BLUE AND GOLD 

BLUE of sapphire, 
Gold of sunset, 
In the lake they sometimes glitter, 
In the sky they are often found. 
Colors of sky and sun 
Intertwined. 

When the swans arrange their plumage 
The blue and gold are like arms around them 
Holding them close to the world. 
Old as it may seem, 

Tiresome as it gets to be to a young mind, 
These two wonders, gold of the sun . . . 
Blue of the sky and night . . . 
Have to be thought about. 



[136] 



ROYAL PALMS 

THERE are thoughts in the earth 
That grow to be palm trees. 
Don't you hear the wind singing and moaning 
Through their fanning leaves? 



[137] 



BLUEBIRD 

SO happy the song he sings 
On the apple-blossom bough I 
Remembering how the sun 
Melted the long winter snow. 
He is the first to come, 
He and his comrade robin, 
In his heart joyful 
Over returning Spring. 
So happy the song he sings 
On the apple-blossom bough ! 



[138] 



WHO? 

TALIAN anemones in rose-mellowed 
purple 
Are a window of color. 

Who is looking through? 



I 



[139] 



TREES 

THE clouds kiss the leafy breasts 
Of the trees. 
They tell me tales. . . they talk to me. 
I will listen attentively to the tales they tell 
I will imagine their thoughts, 
Their love for the earth they live on : 
I think of a tree poised 
Above a pool of flowers. . . . 
This is more to me than legend. 



[140] 



LULLABY 

DROWSY, drowsy are the stars 
In the dark blue sky. 

The moon comes like the mother of the 
world 

And kisses them goodnight. 

One by one people shut up their day- 
tired eyes 

And sleep . . . and dream . . . 

Hiding behind the lilac bush 

I have heard dreams come. 

Drowsy, drowsy are the winds. 

Faint with almond petals. 

Rosy with the opening almond flowers; 

Tangled in almond boughs or plum 
boughs. . . 

Any Spring sweetness 

To bring the drowsy dreams. . . . 



[141] 



PALM TREES 

T\ALM trees like old India shine . . 
JL I said to myself : 
But really they were folded elm-boughs 
Written in shadow 
On the grass. 



[142] 



WHITE-CAPPED LAKE 

FOAM comes and goes; 
Stones shine on the lake-bottom . . . 
Waves gurgle like bells. 
A maple curves over that lake 
To see its shadow. 

The lake is clear with dew and wind; 
The wind blows a little music 
To that tree. 

All I have heard and seen and thought 

Will go away. 

The maple tree will be there still, 

But the bright water gone. 

The tree will bend until I think of the lake, 

make it real again, 
Make it shine again under green leaves 
Of my mind. 



[143] 



THE FORGOTTEN RIVER 

THERE was a river In a dream I had 
Now it has gone. 
Now It lies lost 
At the bottom of my heart. 
Not till I find the gold at the end of the 

rainbow 
Can It stir and flow and live 
As other rivers do. 



[144] 



WAKING THE MOTHS 

WHITE as pearls would be on a 
bed of moss, 
I awake them one by one 
From their sleepy hours 
On the under side of meadow-grasses 
To their happy hours of flitting. 
I shake the grasses . . . 
They scatter softly . . . 
Airy and light and uncertain 
I watch them vanishing. 



[145] 



WEEPING WILLOW 

DROOPING her eyes, 
Looking long into the skyblue lake, 
The willow stands on her island. 
Tears are falling gently; 
You cannot see them . . . 
What could comfort her? 

Some day a wind will blow 

A western wind . . . 

Out of heaven's bosom 

A breeze will come flying with a harp around 

its neck. . . 
Into the willow branches it will fly 
And the harp will sing a happy tune. 
I know how they sing, 
Those harps of the wind, 
When the wind is sorry 
Or puzzled! 



[146] 



COSTUME 

I HAD ribbons the color of daffodils 
That are bells within bells : 
I had shoes with crystal heels 
To keep me dancing: 
I tossed my head under a cap 
With a tassel of cherries, 
And then I said and said once more 
My name is Miranda. 



[147] 



SOUTH WIND 

WHEN the south sang like a nightingale 
It was the hour bringing the tinted 
dawn. 
Over the meadow's grassy breast 
I trod with trembling feet : 
I rested on moss : 
My thoughts glittered . . . 
I felt I could touch them. 
My hair was blowing . . . fell around 

me . . . 
I heard the nightingale wind 
Like magic in mist: 
It was then I said to the thick trees 
"Why try to pretend? 
You cannot hide the world from me: 
It is looking at me through your fingers." 



[148] 



PINE TREE 

AWAY in the great forest 
On the slope of a snow-capped mountain 
A lonely pine tree stood by itself. 
It had no one to love it : 
So I stayed all night 
Under its branches laden with snow. 
I did not mind the cold. 



[149] 



CLARKE FARM 

AS you wander down a road of golden 
sand 
You look past stretches of winter-dry 

meadow 
Inlaid with spruce and pine. 
Red maples splash down the forest hillside ; 
Transparent birches draw pale lines against 

the underbrush ; 
The Connecticut has just now gone swinging 

between those mountains, 
Though I could not see it going. 
The mountains curve downward, they hold 

their hands over their eyes . . . 
They peer into the water curiously 
Over the tops of yellow willows. 
I am far away ... I see the mountains 

blurred . . . 
Bent heads . . . blue shoulders . . . 



[150] 



CRYSTAL CAVE 

(Bermuda) 

THE sea is quiet 
Within the cave . . . 
The sea hangs from a topaz thread 
In a silver bowl. 
The trembling sea 
Hangs and glitters 
And is gone. 



[151] 



APRIL WITH VEILED ARMS 

APRIL with veiled arms 
And body like a swan's wing, 
Opal and bronze in your hair, 
Gold in your eyes, 
Are you a woman 
Out of the sea? 
Did you come last night 
From the uncurled wave ? 



[152] 



PEACE-OF-OUR-OWN 

SITTING alone In the peace-time 
When day turns shadowy 
My mother and I read . . .wonder. . . 
Make poems about beautiful things 
We have known and seen. 
I have names for many songs 
I have not yet made . . . 
Iris . . . Sun-rays . . . 
Sun-down . . . or the Moon-Dark . 
Or that queer blue song about a pea- 
cock feather. 
I never know why It is 
But whenever I listen 
In flies a poem. 



[153] 



LONELY SONG 

BEND low, blue sky, 
Touch my forehead; 
You look cool . . . bend down . . . 

Flow about me in your blueness and 

coolness, 
Be thistledown, be flowers. 
Be all the songs I have not yet sung. 

Laugh at me, sky ! 

Put a cap of cloud on my head, 

Blow it off with your blue winds . . . 

Give me a feeling of your laughter 

Beyond cloud and wind! 

I need to have you laugh at me 

As though you liked me a little. 



[154] 



I THOUGHT 

1 THOUGHT the sea was honeycomb 
And all the waves were bees 
Humming cozily among the foam. 
I thought that white mulberry trees 
Shook their blossoms out all day 
In foam of honey, windy spray: 
And then I made a song of these 
After I got home. 



[155] 



CLIFFACRE 

A RAMBLING house on top of a cliff 
Overlooking a many-colored canyon 
Alone with the sunset, 
Alone with the dawn. 
Trees crowding down beyond the garden: 
A place where I should put food for wild 

animals . . . 
Through my big west windows 
I could watch them come and go. 
Sand along the cliff . . . cedars with berries like 

blue wax . . . 
Then the stable half-hidden where I shall keep 

my horses 
Barberry and Gray Glory, 
Just a tile-roofed shelter for them in a wing of 

sand 
Off at one side . . . but not too far . . . 

Where will it be? I think ... in Wyoming. 
A cliff somewhere ... I know I can find it . . . 
An acre of land for my house and garden. 
[156] 



CLIFFACRE 

I shall have a wild silver fox for a pet; 

He will learn my ways. 

Doors will stand always open . . . 

I shall do as I please all day in that house. 

There will be bowls 

For short-stemmed flowers; 

(I want all flowers that like that country 

To live in my garden . . .) 

There will be twenty-four vases 

To keep filled with roses. 



[157] 



JEANNE D'ARC 

IF I were Jeanne D'Arc 
It would be hard remembering the apple- 
orchard In bloom, 
With nothing about me but noise and armies, 
All men, all women, unhappy. 
No time for children (Let them be quiet!) 
No time for anybody 
But kings . . . 
And the appletrees all the time wondering . . 



[158] 



WILD CANARY 

LIKE a lump of fresh gold 
You shine 
On an old dead tree you sit 
As though you were not a bird at all 
But trying your best to seem real, 
To give me a thought of wings. 



[159] 



BOOKS 

BOOKS, books that I love so, 
Poetry . . . fairy-tales . . . stories . . 
All of them together make one huge book 
Broad as a mountain 
With golden pages 
And pictures of long ago. 
I read and I read ... of living ... of 

thoughts . . . 
Of queer things people tell : 
If I could I would buy that huge book, 
All the world in one! 
But It cannot be bought 
For one penny or two. 



[1 60] 



I WAS THINKING 

I WAS thinking 
The tenderness children need 
Is in soft shadow-things; 
Is a kind of magic . . . 
Petals of a dark pansy . . . 
Cloudy wings. . . . 
(But the sun can touch me 
With fingertips like flowers . . .) 

And the tenderness children need 

Is in old thoughts and songs of all the world 

People have not forgotten . . . 

It is in the way mothers look at tired children. 
It is in the half-voice fathers use 
Feeling some surprise and gladness 
To see their children there at all. 



[i6i] 



BIG DIPPER 

THE Big Dipper spilled stars down over the 
roofs, 
I felt the way the wind whirled stars 
Over the town roofs. . . . 

I felt the town asleep : 

I felt people there in the great crisp dark. 

When morning came in a waver of light 

There was a breath of change ... all the 

dreams going away from the dreamers 
As dreams do go away in the morning. 

A ring of hills . . . one river . . . some streets 

Make a design. 

Stars make a design 

And it is a Big Dipper 

Or the Pleiades like a bunch of grapes. . . . 

It is harder to say what the roofs mean: 

I don't know . . , 

Maybe I'm not yet far enough 

Away. 

[162] 



NEVER-KNOWN 

THE chickadee taught me this river 
Through the goldenrod field: 
A river of blue light 
Going zigzag over the goldenrod 
In the sun. 

I found a mountain . . . 

At least it was one to the ants and crickets : 

It was round soft turf, 

It had a dimple where a stone had been 

And a stalk of goldenrod 

Instead of an elm tree. 

Once I saw a field full of gentians 
The color of mountains when they are far away. 
But this was an ordinary field 
Where a mouse could live quietly all his days 
Exploring his own country. 
Only to me it was different . . . 
To me It was a Never-Known 
With a blue river and a yellow jungle . . . 
[163] 



NEVER-KNOWN 

And while I was about it, I made my mountains 

high, 
Feathery on top, as they do in maps, 
Curved feathers dropped along in handfuls 
Marked Mts. 



[164] 



I 



THIS DAY 

NEVER asked the day to be good to me 
Yet it has been sweet in its going. 



This day began behind the moon 

Where all the white things come from. 

Thistledown comes from behind the moon, 

And that clearness of early hours. . . . 

But the clearness of this day turned into color 

When the sun came. 

Now it is dark : now it is bedtime. 

I can see the color as though it had not gone, 

I can see it better than when it was here: 

Even the moon of those early hours of morning 

Is more like mother-of-pearl 

Or pink silver. 

Mother-of-pearl Moon, 
Your lonely face grows warm . . . 
You have changed all of a sudden . . . 
You make me think of flowers. 

[165] 



DESERTED HOUSE 

DO you remember the house 
With many windows? 
It looked through its cobwebs 
At the blue mountain. 

There were old rosebushes near the doorstep 
Queer bright single roses bloomed . . . 
I used to think of people 
Who had wanted them there. 
Maybe there was a little girl 
Going barefoot . . . 
Maybe she thought summer began 
With a rosebush. 
Do you remember the maples 
And the fence where we saw baby swallows 
In a row? 

I made a song about a princess. 
She was a little girl . . . 

In the cobweb house of stone she is hidden 
They have left her alone. 
[i66] 



DESERTED HOUSE 

When she called no one answered . . . 

They have left her alone. 

She sang to keep her heart high . . . 

They have left her alone. 

But the silvery cold made her shiver and sleep 

And her song went by. 

After that I made a story about her 

Out of the old house: 

I put roseleaves on her eyes . . . 

(You know how sunset . . . every afternoon . . . 

Used to fill the window-panes with colors 

They had never known?) 



[167] 



DRAGON FLY 

you jerk, against the sun, 
You twist your diamond wires and green- 
gold scales, 
You tilt your body . . . head down . . . 
You quiver . . . 
Are you angry or only excited? 
I should think the ferns might be excited 
Feeling you there : 
And you never mention the reasons 
For your coming. 
Sure of your wings 

You have time in the air for thinking: 
You poise and are content. 
But only lizards among old stones 
Can find as you find the unexpected turning: 
You say // is time to go! 
And you have gone. 



[i68] 



I SHAUL COME BACK 

I SHALL be coming back to you 
From seas, rivers, sunny meadows, 
glens that hold secrets : 

I shall come back with my hands full 

Of light and flowers. 

Brooks braided in with sunbeams 

Will hang from my fingers. 

My heart will be awake . . . 

All my thoughts and joys will go to you. 

I shall bring back things I have picked up, 

Traveling this road or the other. 

Things found by the sea or in the pine- 
wood. 

There will be a pine-cone in my pocket. 

Grains of pink sand between my fingers. 

I shall tell you of a golden pheasant's 
feather; 

I shall tell you of stars like seaweed. 

Moons will glitter in my hair . . . 

Will you know me? 

I shall come back when sunset has turned 
away and gone, 

And you will untangle the moons 

And make me drowsy 

And put me to bed. 

[169] 



TIME 

TIME is a harp 
That plays to you till you fall asleep; 
You are always spending it away 
Like a music . . . 
Suddenly you are left alone 
On a trail of wind. 

The mountains were asleep 

Long ago! 

Listen . . . the tune is changing . . . 

Do you hear it? 

You will sleep too 

Before long . . . 



THE END 



[170] 



iliiiili 

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